


Sorry Won't Pay For This Grave

by thegrumblingirl



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Daud helps Corvo get Emily back from Kingsparrow, Dishonored 1, Explosions, Guilt, M/M, POV Daud (Dishonored), Post-Dishonored (Video Game), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Redemption, Saving Emily, Snark, Trust Issues, Uneasy Allies, they're both stupid and we like them that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: There was no use in apologising — in expressing his regret to the man whose life he’d destroyed and then left him cold, starving, and sorting through the rubble of the city for some Void-damned salvation. There was no use.He did it anyway, in not so many words.
Relationships: Corvo Attano/Daud
Comments: 12
Kudos: 98





	Sorry Won't Pay For This Grave

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a belated Christmas present for you lot — just as I'd wondered whether I might manage a little something before the year was out, a plot bunny bit me and I couldn't resist. So here's a little something: mainly angst and Corvo and Daud at each other's throats, but with a little sugar on top by the end.
> 
> Happy Holidays, kids!

There was no use in apologising — in expressing his regret to the man whose life he’d destroyed and then left him cold, starving, and sorting through the rubble of the city for some Void-damned salvation. There was no use.

He did it anyway, in not so many words.

He told Corvo that something inside them both had broken that day, and that his dead eyes and _her_ blood seeping into the marble ground had haunted him ever since. There was no confession to the crime, only judgment. Daud wasn’t sure which man spoke the harsher verdict. Corvo, it seemed, didn’t intend to say anything at all. Only stared at him, blade at Daud’s throat, before he lowered one arm and raised the other to remove his mask. Daud did not envy him what he saw in the mirror every day any more than he could stand himself.

“Where could they have taken Emily?” Corvo rasped, voice still ravaged by the poison, and Daud flinched at the mention of her name — last he’d heard it was form the tongue of a witch who sought to turn her into a puppet to her own obsession. And Attano didn’t know about that, either.

Frankly, Daud had no idea. His scouts had only brought him news of a commotion by the river; tallboys patrolling and the Watch scouring every inch. Daud begrudgingly gave it to them that his men hadn’t uncovered that sorry little conspiracy sooner. He had no intel, but he had experience. He gave himself five seconds to run through what he knew; of Havelock and the other miscreants, of Burrows and his failed schemes, and he let himself be led by instinct to the one guess that he had before Corvo cleaved his head from his shoulders.

“Kingsparrow,” he rasped. “It’s the only option they have left.” He’d surprised himself with it, but now found confidence in his choice. Remote, secure, and bloody awful in bad weather. And what else was there to bet on during High Cold?

Corvo, however, surprised him further. “Kingsparrow?” he echoed.

Daud tilted his head, now that doing so wouldn’t put him right on the edge of Corvo’s steel: “They kept that from you, did they?” Without waiting for prompt or permission, he leveraged himself to his feet. “They must be there, then.”

Corvo’s eyes widened, then narrowed quickly. “You _guessed_?”

“Educatedly,” Daud rumbled as he passed him. “Come on, Attano. I’ll help you find your Princess.”

***

Neither of them, it seemed, spared the time to stop and think for a good while after that. Daud absently noted the utter _state_ of his office, even his personal quarters, whilst they prepared, and he could only presume that the Whalers’ dorms as well as the stocks had suffered Attano’s curiosity equally. The Whalers that remained took a little convincing that Corvo should be helped, not tranqued and put back into the hole he’d fallen out of; but a pointed glare from both Daud and that grotesque mockery of a mask sent them scrambling to carry out Daud’s rapid-fire orders. Thomas stayed behind, knowing that Daud would have a special task for him.

“Get a coat for him that fits,” Daud gestured at Corvo. Thomas nodded, and Corvo looked taken aback. “And while we’re gone, take inventory and make me a list of everything he stole.” Even Thomas did a double-take at that, but obeyed.

“You could just search me,” Corvo commented idly, and it did not escape Daud’s notice that his hand had drifted back to the hilt of his sword.

“Itching to get handsy again so soon, Corvo?” Daud sneered, and behind the mask he imagined he could see Corvo rolling his eyes. “You’ll need everything you’ve got on you,” referring to more than just the gear Daud himself had tossed into the refinery and that Corvo had obviously retrieved without much personal difficulty. If Corvo had helped himself to the Whalers’ stashes, then Daud needed to know, but it wasn’t a waste of it. For now.

“And the coat?” Corvo challenged. “I’m not wearing one of your masks.”

Daud considered that for a moment and, seeing as they had no idea what they were walking into, felt he had to concede. The girl might not survive the shock as it was, it wouldn’t do for her to fear her Protector. He shrugged.

“Fine,” he said. “But take the coat rather than,” he waved a hand at Corvo’s tall figure, standing imposingly in the middle of the chamber, “that gilded monstrosity. It won’t work up close, but at least from a distance the guards won’t know who they’re aiming at.”

Daud went on to sort some of the maps and papers on his desk and paid no mind to the curious way Corvo was regarding him.

“You seek to hide me among your men?” Corvo asked.

“It’ll work, for a time,” Daud answered.

“It’ll put them in danger,” Corvo returned.

Daud wasn’t sure whether his tone implied merely a warning or more condemnation.

“And I’ll stand out most easily,” he said, squaring his shoulders and feeling the red fabric stretch across his back. “Drawing the guards’ fire.” He waited for Corvo to properly hear that. “That’s how it’s always been.” He turned, declaring the subject closed.

“And Lurk?” Corvo put the knife at his back with barely a pause. “Where is she? She wears red, too, does she not?”

Daud gritted his teeth. “It was her choice.”

“Where is she now? I’d have expected her to be here, _protecting you_.”

Daud’s nostrils flared, but he reined in his temper. “She wanted to know what it was like being me.”

“And?”

“Didn’t agree with her. She’s gone.”

“You killed her.” Corvo sounded bitter, but curiously it wasn’t an accusation.

Daud jerked around. “No,” he growled. And before Corvo could say anything else, he added, “That’s it. Stay out of it.”

“That’d be a first,” Corvo disregarded the warning. “For an assassin to deny a kill. To lie to ease his conscience.”

Daud grunted, then shook his head. “I’ve never lied to you, bodyguard. My conscience is already beyond redemption in your eyes — what’s the harm in one more mark?” As if on cue, the brand on the back of his hand throbbed and tugged, heralding Thomas’ return.

“Lord Attano,” he addressed Corvo so unfailingly politely that the man stopped gnawing on Daud’s bones long enough for their stand-off to break. Thomas handed Corvo a coat that looked just big enough, and in the other hand he held a ledger.

“Are you certain you wish to go alone, sir?” he asked; in that way Thomas had that kept Daud from barking at him for second-guessing his orders every twenty minutes. He still barked, though.

“Not alone: we’ll take Fleet, Escobar, and Rulfio. Jenkins and Fergus, too, if you can spare them.” Thomas nodded obediently. “That’s as many as will fit in a boat, anyhow. And it’s important you remain here.”

“Sir?”

“In case I don’t return. Arm the defences,” Daud gave the order, knowing full well that the greatest danger he’d encounter today was still the man right behind him. If anyone had right of first refusal on Daud’s watery grave, it was Corvo Attano. He may yet exercise it still.

*

It went well enough, all things considered. Even the piercing scream the Princess let out when she realised whose company her father kept these days. Daud would beg to differ that he wasn’t the one who’d tried to poison her bodyguard and abducted her (again) after making him do all the dirty work. Wisely, he kept his counsel.

*

“We can’t go straight to the Tower,” Daud picked back up the thread of a conversation they hadn’t even begun yet, breathing harshly after descending the lighthouse the more cumbersome way, alongside the blasted elevator on its way down. Emily had shrunk further into her father’s embrace as he’d set foot into the cabin after them, and Daud had simply stepped back and closed the door without a word. He couldn’t blame her.

“Rudshore first?” Corvo asked, still cradling the girl close. “Or the Hound Pits?”

“I don’t trust that hole not to be overrun with more City Watch.” Daud and Corvo had sent the civilians away, including Piero, Sokolov, and none other than Curnow’s niece for a governess. Callista would take them all to her uncle — the Captain couldn’t call off the raids, but he could hide them for a while. Just long enough.

Corvo nodded, and they all piled back into Beechworth’s boat. The old skipper eyed them suspiciously, Daud most of all, but his expression softened at seeing Emily tucked into Corvo’s arms.

“My girl,” he said softly. Then, he looked to Daud, as if accepting that at the very least he carried a bargain through to the end. “Where to?”

“Rudshore. You know how to get in?” Daud only asked for the sake of transparency. Corvo washing up where he had made that clear enough.

“Aye,” was Samuel’s only answer. It would do.

***

Unfortunately, the Hound Pists wasn’t the only hideout in danger of discovery.

“Not fucking again,” Daud muttered when Thomas greeted them as he shoulders open the sewer gate.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Thomas said quietly, immediately mindful of their young charge — Daud belatedly realised that Attano hadn’t cuffed him for the language. Yet. “It’s another surge.”

“You’d think they’d learn not to spread themselves so thin,” Daud growled lowly. “Fine. Where are they?”

“Still trying to get through one of the Eastern gates. I’ve sent men to hold them off.”

“Good. Keep them occupied until the signal. Music boxes?”

“A few, but I’ve given orders to incapacitate the carriers first. They’ll be dealt with from afar, no direct contact.”

“Gives us enough time to get out,” Daud nodded. He turned to Corvo. “I trust you know your way up?” He jerked his chin up to indicate the hollowed out carcass of the Commerce Building rising high around them.

Corvo nodded. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“Overseers,” Daud said curtly, in so far stating the obvious. “The third wave this month.”

“They know where to find you and you’re still here?” Corvo asked incredulously. One of his hands — the marked one — was on the back of the Princess’ head, drawing her against him protectively, as if there was any shielding her from what was happening right around her.

Daud hummed. “Tell me, did you find any still alive while you were making your way past the train station, by any chance?”

Corvo glared at him and didn’t answer.

“If anything’s a sign to pack it in, this is it,” Daud grated, gesturing for Thomas to go up ahead of them. “Let’s go.”

***

Upstairs, they wasted no time grabbing what they could. Thomas handed Daud the inventory list, and privately he thought that one ought to rename Corvo from a crow to magpie. He snapped shut the ammunitions case he’d piled bolts and vials into and stood to face Attano. It turned out that Corvo had set the Kaldwin heir down and she was walking around on her own, picking up things he directed her to. Daud boggled a little at the Princess making herself _useful_ , but thought it best not to say anything. While she may not have him executed for his opinions of nobility, there was enough that he had done to her already.

“Here,” Daud called, and then tossed the case at an unsuspecting Corvo from across the stacks, who only just caught it by the handle, his right arm already holding supplies. “What was left that you couldn’t get your thieving little hands on.”

“Corvo is not a thief,” the Princess suddenly spoke up, putting herself in between Daud and her Protector, fists clenched by her side, and Daud blinked down at her without quite knowing what to say.

Corvo, for his part, only glared at him again. Daud shrugged.

“You wanted my shit, there it is,” he said to Corvo, again without a care for young, impressionable ears. She’d heard worse, and more, at the Golden Cat.

Before Corvo could say or do anything, an alarm sounded from deeper in the building. This time, Daud bit back the curse. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Corvo begin to shift the contents of his arms.

“No time,” he snapped, and did the only sensible thing: he reached for Emily.

She squawked as he picked her up and hauled her into his chest before she could kick him in the ribs. She still nearly got him in the parts, though.

“Hold still and close your eyes,” he hissed into her ear.

“Daud, what—“ Corvo barked beside him.

“Run.” Without further warning, Daud began transversal.

To his credit, Corvo kept up fine, instinctively following the same route Daud had in mind. Emily shrieked when the ground disappeared from underneath them as Daud leapt out one of the windows and into nothing; he shifted one of his hands up high on her back to discourage her from twisting around to see where they were going. She hid her face in his shoulder, and the hold of her arms around his neck — survival, not comfort — was tight enough to nearly strangle him.

He looked back towards the horizon, Corvo behind him snarling with rage, and counted the heads of Whalers who were following the same trajectory. He could only hope that everyone had made it out in time. They kept going for a long minute, until they were many rooftops away; at the edge of the Flooded District but still out of range of the patrols near Rudshore Gate.

Panting, Daud called through the Bond for everyone to halt, and raised his fist to translate for Corvo. They all stopped and turned, looking back at their escape.

“What is this?” demanded Corvo, the only one who did not know what they were running from.

“Last line of defence,” Daud said quietly. “They know where we are,” he added, turning to raise a brow at Corvo. “Third time’s the charm.”

Feeling the girl squirm, he set her down — surprised that Attano hadn’t snatched her from his grasp first thing — and she immediately went to hide by Corvo’s side. Not behind him, however: she stayed standing between them.

“Ten seconds,” Thomas announced from somewhere to their left.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry about me,” a voice complained from below, and then Escobar heaved himself over the roof’s edge, his breath strained.

“Where were you?” Daud demanded.

“You see, boss,” Rinaldo straightened up, “when it’s not Overseers, it’s witches. Or, you know, explosives.”

“Explosives?” Corvo asked quietly. The penny had dropped.

“Explosives,” Daud confirmed.

“Three… two… one,” Thomas counted down.

And then, the horizon was set alight with flame.

***

“Where will you go now?” Corvo asked once they had a moment to themselves. The Tower still bore the mark Burrows had left on it: steel encasing the foundations and the stink of his treachery all over the interior.

Daud had shuddered when he saw how open and vulnerable Burrows’ quarters — formerly the late Empress’ quarters — were. That balcony was practically an invitation; one he bet that Attano had made use of in dispatching the erstwhile Lord Regent. Even mediocre assassins could have gotten to her in _here_. Wonder why Burrows had made Daud go to all the trouble of staging the attack out by the gazebo. (Then again, he knew why. Spectacle had always been Burrows’ game.)

He said none of this aloud. No doubt Attano would order extensive renovations the second Daud and his Whalers were gone. He wondered whether the Royal Protector might take up this room and install the young Empress somewhere rather more out of the way.

“Me, or the Whalers?” Daud returned the question. He was standing with his hip checked against the enormous desk dominating the room, watching as Corvo made a note of what was left of furniture and contents of dressers.

“Is there a distinction?” Corvo paused in his search to cast him a sidelong glance.

“I expect so,” Daud said simply.

Corvo snapped the drawers shut, stood, then turned to face him.

“I’m sorry about Pietro,” he said. “For what it’s worth.”

Daud didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Attano pitied _him_? And besides. What was one more loss?

“They’ll find somewhere to sleep tonight,” he shrugged. “And I’ll find somewhere to run. Far from you.” _And the_ _Empire_ , he didn’t say.

Corvo’s expression turned inquisitive, and he came another few steps closer. He’d discarded the Whaler uniform but hadn’t exchanged it for his own coat, even though it had been amongst the things the Whalers had saved from the fire in their flight; so here he stood, in his shirtsleeves and embroidered, armoured vest and high collar.

“What if you didn’t? At least not yet.”

“What are you playing at, Corvo?” Daud squinted at him. At Corvo’s attempt to look innocent, he scoffed. “I know a pitch when I hear one. Out with it.”

“I don’t trust the guards in this place,” Corvo gestured to mean the Tower, but possibly the entire district. Or perhaps the fucking city.

“But you trust me and my men?” Daud asked sardonically.

“You’ve kept your word today,” was all Corvo said, and something in Daud’s chest ached for a man whose expectation of others’ trustworthiness was that low. And still, it was not a bar Daud and his Whalers were in the habit of clearing.

“Fine,” Daud surprised himself a second time that day. “We’ll stay, until you’re… more comfortable.”

Corvo nodded slowly.

At least he didn’t thank him.

* * *

“I still can’t believe you _guessed_ where she’d be,” Corvo said on the morning of Emily’s coronation festivities.

_Five years later._

Daud groaned, and poured himself more coffee.

“Will you ever let that go?” he rumbled, voice pitching lower when he felt Corvo lean in from where he stood behind Daud’s high-backed chair.

“No,” Corvo breathed softly, then pressed a kiss to Daud’s cheek. “Today of all days, no.”

And something in Daud’s chest warmed at that.

**Author's Note:**

> Title half-stolen from Katherine Polwart's _Sorry_. The original line is "Sorry won't pay for this grief," but I changed it slightly.


End file.
